Don’t Hate Me, I Have a Love Affair

I won’t deny it: I take every opportunity to eat well, especially when it comes to family time. Unconditional love from my parents means never feeling hunger. That could have been deduced just by looking at our very wellfed physique, from my brothers down to the little oversized kidlets.

So for Sunday brunch, we head off to Le Souffle at Fernando’s. No, not our residence but at the Amorsolo in Rockwell.

I wont elaborate too much, because it’s quite evident that the pictures speak for themselves. My happy tummy nodding in agreement right now.

Souffle, for me, is like the love affair you always want but can’t always have. It has to happen once in a blue moon to truly appreciate the beauty and madness (as Fra Lippo Lippi would croon) of it.

It takes time and effort to make (20-30 min), you wait in excitement, and once you break the airy top and fill it with creme anglaise, the first spoonful requires a moment of silence to truly quantify the gravity of the experience.

When you have too much of a good thing, you bastardize what it means to want something worth anticipating for. In this day and age of excess and immediate gratification, having a souffle is reminiscent of those times when you cannot fully understand the meaning of a moment until it becomes a memory.

I miss those moments and always wish for it to happen. But deep down I know, I’d rather it come unexpectedly than constantly, because you should never have too much of a good thing; then it just gets diluted by the law of diminishing return.